


The Colour of Roses

by Abelina



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-23
Updated: 2011-05-23
Packaged: 2017-10-19 17:39:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abelina/pseuds/Abelina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate take on the events of the season 2 episode <i>Passion</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Colour of Roses

*~*

 

The sight of the rose made him smile and as he lifted it to his nose to take in its scent.  A feeling of anticipation roared through his body.  They had been dancing around this for weeks while they fumbled through an at times awkward courtship.  Small smiles of promise, little touches hinting at the possibility of moving things forward.  With the goings-on of late concerning Angelus, they had entered into an unspoken agreement to postpone _the next step_ , as it were.  Discovering the physical side of their burgeoning relationship would have to wait.  Lord knows, it was just such an event that had brought this threat upon them in the first place.

But then she had gone and turned his world on its side with her confession.  More than one confession, he reminded himself.  In the moment, however, he could move beyond the deception about her past and her presence in Sunnydale.  As much as his common sense told him he ought to fight it, to consider the fact that a relationship built upon lies was doomed to fail, he could not deny how he felt. 

She wasn’t the only one who had fallen in love.

Giles poked his head inside the door, noting the music and appreciating her selection.  It was very romantic.  He felt his heart beat faster as he entered his flat.

“Hello?  Jenny...?” he said, calling out when he didn’t see her.  “It’s me...”

She didn’t answer, and his eyes were drawn to his desk, where Jenny had placed some wine to chill.  Attached to the bucket was a note, which he took into his suddenly trembling fingers.  As his eyes swept over the message written on it in her delicate script, his stirrings of anticipation became stirrings of a more physical nature.

_Upstairs._

Leaving his spectacles behind, he picked up the wine and the glasses and moved in a fog, desire coursing through is veins with each step up the stairs strewn with blood red roses.  Jenny.  Upstairs.  _Waiting._

The music reached a crescendo as he ascended the final step and there, _there_ , swathed in a fine silken robe of brilliant red, lay Jenny, smiling softly and twirling a rose of the same rich colour between her fingers.

“Hello, lover,” she whispered, the silk of her voice pouring like molten heat through his veins.

“Jenny...”

She looked incredible with the candle light flickering over her face, dark eyes sparkling, her robe shimmering, clinging to her curves as she reclined on the bed.  Giles could not force his legs to move and stood in the doorway, taking in the sight of her.  Her lips parted in a subtle smile that could not be mistaken for anything other than its intended invitation.  Giles’ breath quickened and he fumbled with the bottle and glasses, knocking them together as his tremulous fingers tried their hardest to make a bumbling fool out of him yet.

“W-wine?” he asked, moving into the room at last and mentally cursing his stuttering attempt at conversation.

But Jenny kept smiling, her gaze flicking from his face and travelling down.  Down, down, down, past his shaking hands, where she lingered and her smile broadened.  He froze, watching her, every second of her scrutiny causing his heart to pound and his cock to harden to the point of pain.  Then she snapped her eyes back up to meet his, her tongue sweeping a moist path over her lower lip.

He dropped the glass and it shattered at his feet, but he no longer cared.  Jenny rose fluidly from her spot, crawling toward him across the bed with the grace of a cat, her robe falling open at the neck to reveal a scrap of black lace cradling her breasts.

Somehow, he found his way to the bed without any recollection of making the journey or of leaving behind his footwear in the remnants of the wine glass.  Jenny’s fingers pulled at his tie and slipped his jacket off his shoulders.  Her lips touched his, moist and cool against his fevered skin, and their mouths moved together, tongues venturing out to explore and caress as Jenny made quick work of his shirt buttons.  Giles’ hands moved from their place on the bed, finding her soft, bare legs.  She gasped softly and climbed into his lap.

His shirt was gone and her robe came open in his hands.  It slipped off her without resistance, pooling around her in a puddle of red.  Forgetting to tremble, forgetting everything save the feel of her skin beneath his hands, Giles lost himself in her kiss.  Soft and tender soon gave way to heated and needy.  His hands roamed over her, seeking to discover every curve, every inch of her at once.  He caught the clasp holding her brassiere together between his fingers.  A twist and the garment came free.

“Close your eyes,” Jenny said, her words a murmur, a breath against his lips. 

And he did, shut his eyes, felt the tickle of hair on his lips and the tug of her fingers on his belt.  His own fingers slid down her sides, scratching, tickling, to the slip of lace lying along the line of her hips.  He tugged swiftly, a remembered action from his youth, and the barely-there fabric was no longer there at all.

Neither were his pants, having disappeared, along with his shorts, to Jenny’s able efforts.  Her mouth captured his again while her hands gripped his shoulders.  Up she lifted, her belly pressed to his, her breasts cradling his face and her slippery folds caressing his cock.  Then she lowered herself, inch by inch, taking him deep inside her tight, cool channel.

Cool.

_Oh, God, no..._

He dragged his eyes open.  Jenny moved above him, rising up and sinking down again, her head tossed back and her mouth open as she moaned.  She trailed her fingers down her unmarked neck, over her collarbone and down to her breast and its dusky nipple ringed with the angry, bloodied marks of a vampire’s bite.

“Shh, Rupert,” said the demon wearing Jenny’s face, stroking his cheek as she continued her movements.  “It’ll be all right.  You’ll see.”

The pain constricting his heart contrasted sharply with the cool pleasure squeezing his cock.  Jenny was...he knew it, his head knew it but his eyes, his body refused to accept it.  He thrust up hard into her, gripping her hips to guide her motions, losing the battle of wills to the body starved for this, for her, for the connection he craved and would never have again.

She groaned like an animal, writhed above him and screamed his name.  Her vaginal walls tightened around him with each plunge into her depths, the slowly building rapture of it drowning out the screaming grief threatening to rise up and spill out with all the violence of the monster, _that_ monster, who had spilled her blood.

 _Oh, Jenny_...

He felt her body begin to shudder and heard the rumbling growl of her demon showing its face at last.  His eyes opened to meet hers, the golden orbs of the creature she had become looking back at him with too much affection, too little malice.  And as his body began to answer her call, when the pleasure rose to its peak and he began to fall, Jenny dipped her head and sank her fangs into his neck.

He exploded in a kaleidoscope of sensation.  Colours flared behind his eyelids, brilliant blue, golden yellow and hot, blood red.  The absolute ecstasy of a powerful, body-shattering climax swallowed the sting of pain and he tumbled, weightless, devoid of form or substance, a being of pure, undiluted pleasure.

Slow, deep pulls at his neck as his body returned to Earth.  He felt her draining him, each mouthful of his lifeblood both weakening him and pulling him back toward the rapture of their lovemaking.  Tears slipped hot over his cheeks, but he didn’t try to stop them.  A wave of dizziness swept over him, and he knew it was time...

Jenny’s dust fell around him, taking with it the stake she hadn’t known was hidden beneath the mattress.  A trickle of blood dribbled down his neck, dropping _pat, pat, pat_ onto the bed in small, red circles.  Giles pressed the empty robe to the wound, forcing himself to stand despite his light-headedness.

Shards of glass sliced his feet.  The roses drove their thorny stems into his bloody soles.  Giles stumbled down the stairs, still holding the red silk to his throbbing neck. 

 _Jenny...Oh, God, Jenny._  

He moved with single-minded determination toward the telephone on the wall. 

_Must tell Buffy._

And then, Angelus would pay. 

 

*~*


End file.
